


you got weights in your pockets

by Menya_Savut



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous sexuality, Angst, Bisexuality, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking & Talking, F/M, Fluid Sexuality, Heterosexuality, Homosexuality, Kissing, Love Polygon, M/M, Making Out, Sexuality, Unrequited Love, loveless relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 22:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4895539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menya_Savut/pseuds/Menya_Savut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People have a right to crash and burn, if they know what they’re getting into and that’s what they want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you got weights in your pockets

It was strange, going off to college. They all knew logically that there was little chance of their all going to the same school, but it still surprised Farkle when it happened. Lucas decided to study nearer to his home in Austin, so he ended up in Texas Tech. Maya went to Penn State, and Riley went to Columbia. Farkle had wanted to get into MIT, but they hadn’t admitted him so he went to NYU instead.

“It’s not a big deal,” Maya had said when he told her the news. “You haven’t failed.”

Farkle didn’t know what to say to that.

The first year was all right. He didn’t declare a major, and freshman year was just taking prerequisites anyway so it didn’t matter. But NYU had asked for a major in sophomore year, so he picked Chemistry on a whim.

He talked to Riley and Maya and Lucas intermittently; there were some phone calls sprinkled throughout the years and they met up during holidays. Talking to them didn’t ever become awkward, but Farkle didn’t share a common experience with them anymore. He felt not uncomfortable, but aloof.

_“Hey Farkle! It’s Lucas. Happy New Year! I don’t know if you’re back in college yet, but I just wanted to say that I’m actually gonna be at NYU this semester. They have a partnership program with Texas Tech, so I’m taking some classes there. We should meet up! Call me when you get the chance. See you soon, hopefully!”_

A voicemail from Lucas. Farkle would be seeing him all semester, after years of just meeting up every few months or so. It would be like middle school, high school all over again.

Farkle knew he shouldn’t feel nervous, but he was glad that when he called back he got Lucas’s voicemail as well.

“Hey, it’s Farkle. That’s awesome that you’re coming! I don’t drive up until right before classes start. But we can meet up the first week. Text me what you think.”

Farkle was surprised that Lucas suggested meeting at a pub. On a Wednesday night, no less. At least it wouldn’t be very crowded, Farkle thought. Even though it was snowing pretty heavily, he got to The Wicked Vessel before Lucas did. He sat down in a booth with an Amstel to wait. Soon enough, a tall figure appeared by his table, lit from above by the hanging lamp.

“Hey, long time no see,” Lucas said, sitting down across from him with a Budvar.

“Hey,” Farkle said. “How’s life been? How was your holiday?”

“Pretty good. I got to see my old Austin friends. We got a cold front and had to melt all the ice off our barn roofs, so that was most of our ‘quality time’.”

Farkle grimaced amiably. “Sounds rough.”

“It was different,” Lucas shrugged. “What about you?”

“Cold cold cold,” Farkle said. “Twenty eight inches of snow on Christmas Eve, and my family and I decided to go to Rockefeller Center. I’m pretty sure I got frostbite on my nose.”

Lucas laughed quietly. “It looks like it’s in one piece to me.”

“That’s good,” Farkle said. “I need my face if I’m going to woo the boys.”

“Trust me, Farkle, I’m sure the boys would still be chasing you even if you looked like Voldemort,” Lucas smiled. Farkle mock-toasted to that.

“What classes are you taking here?” Farkle asked.

“11th century Christian Scriptures and the Philosophy of Justin Martyr,” said Lucas. “And statistics, because everyone has to take statistics. And Geology for my science credit.”

“Rocks for Jocks?” Farkle teased. “Some things never change.”

“Hmm,” said Lucas gamely. He mock-toasted.

“Are you still doing baseball?” Farkle asked.

“No, actually,” said Lucas. “I tried crew for awhile, but it was grueling.”

Farkle grimaced.

“Anything new for you?” asked Lucas. “What are your classes?”

“Inorganic Chem,” said Farkle. “Spectroscopy. Brit Lit for my English requirement and Film Appreciation.”

“I bet you just love Brit Lit.”

“Sure,” said Farkle. “The best thing is having to read all of _Canterbury Tales_ in two days. I don’t plan on actually going to sleep tomorrow night.”

“What, just drink a gallon of coffee and read ‘til morning?”

“Yup.”

“Your roommate’s gonna hate you.”

“I vomited _one time_ ,” Farkle said. “And that was because I got food poisoning, not because of the coffee. If my roommate’s gonna hate me for anything, it’ll be for coming back at two in the morning and forgetting to turn the lights off.”

“What are you doing out at two in the morning?”

“I go on dates, Lucas Friar. I’m not just all talk, you know.”

Lucas raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know. Anyone in particular?”

“Not really,” said Farkle. “The boys here are dull. They just want to be wasted all the time.” He took a sip of his drink. “What about you? Any lucky lady?”

“Nah,” said Lucas. “I thought about dating, but then I was just going to come here and leave whoever it was behind anyway. What was the point?”

“That’s true,” said Farkle.

They were silent for a moment. Lucas swirled his drink absentmindedly. “I had a little bit of a crush,” he said finally.

“Oh? Who?”

“Well,”—Lucas stared down at his bottle—“it was a crush on a…on a guy.”

“Oh,” said Farkle. His beer was almost gone and it had grown lukewarm, but he sipped at it for something to do. “So are you bisexual, then?”

“I dunno,” said Lucas. “I guess.”

“You guess?”

Lucas shrugged. He kept fiddling with his beer.

Farkle put his bottle down rather harshly; the sound made Lucas jump. “I have a crush too,” Farkle said.

Lucas looked at him and said nothing.

Farkle exhaled. “A crush on a girl.”

Lucas’s hands froze. Farkle stared at them, wide-eyed. Then he promptly leaned his elbows on the table and hid his face in his arms.

“A girl,” Farkle whispered. “A girl, a girl…”

“Farkle?” Lucas asked hesitantly.

Farkle looked up. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong.”

“No!” Farkle groaned. “I’m not attracted to girls. I know I’m not attracted to girls. I’m not even sure I’m attracted to this one girl. But I’m attracted to something about her…I hate this.”

Lucas only looked at him.

Farkle focused his eyes on his near-empty bottle again. “Who do you have a crush on?” he mumbled.

He didn’t look up, but he heard Lucas shifting back and coughing. “Your ex-boyfriend.”

Farkle scoffed quietly at that.

“What about you?” Lucas asked. His tone was emotionless.

“Your ex-girlfriend,” said Farkle shakily. His eyes flicked back to Lucas’s face.

“Hell,” Lucas murmured.

 

Brandon and Riley. Of all the damn people in the whole wide world. And the two of them were dating. Fate had a nasty sense of humor.

Lucas used the word “hilarious” to describe the situation. Farkle thought “maliciously ironic” was more fitting.

They walked back to campus together. The snow had stopped falling, but the cold settled readily around them. They parted at Farkle’s dorm. Farkle had the urge to hug Lucas, but there were years in the way and he contented himself with watching Lucas walk away through his window.

They tried to meet up a few more times, but their opposite parallel loves tainted the air and Farkle found it hard to breathe, let alone talk. What did you say when you both knew the thing you yearned for the most was something the other had and then discarded?

“Go on a date with me,” Lucas said one day. It was March. They’d just come back from a night lecture, and Lucas had insisted on walking Farkle back. He stood just outside Farkle’s doorway, staring stiffly, almost glaring.

Farkle stared right back. “Okay.”

He didn’t know what Lucas thought he was accomplishing, but he’d play along.

They went that Saturday night to see some generic action movie. Lucas held Farkle’s hand, and Farkle nearly laughed, because it reminded him of being in middle school again, when they’d hold hands all the time and it didn’t mean anything. It probably didn’t mean anything now, in all honesty.

They reached Lucas’s apartment first on their way back to campus, and Farkle courteously walked Lucas to his door. Lucas took his hands again, and they kissed, smooth lips fitting together easily.

“Come inside,” Lucas whispered, when they broke apart.

 _What the hell are you playing at?_ Farkle wanted to say. But they weren’t in high school anymore, and so he didn’t.

He followed Lucas into his living room, into his bedroom. Then he was in Lucas’s lap, arms around shoulders, kissing, kissing like-

 _Kissing like Lucas kissed Riley,_ Farkle thought.

Farkle pulled away. “Don’t be stupid,” he said.

Lucas brushed Farkle’s bangs out of his face, just as he used to do all those years ago, and Farkle wanted to cry.

_We’re friends, Lucas. We’ve always been friends._

So Farkle kissed Lucas once again.

 

Nothing happened. They ended up cuddling on Lucas’s bed, just like old times.

They’d figured it out, Farkle realized. Farkle had wrestled with his identity for so long: he wasn’t normal, he was normal, he was gay, he was anything at all. Maybe there wasn’t enough room inside of him to contain every fragment of his being. Now, this longing for a girl was yet another incongruous piece that demanded space.

And Lucas. Lucas was an extremist: extremely fierce, extremely kind. He yearned for goodness in its purest form and recoiled from every impiety. He was extremely passionate, about his friends, about his loves. Every emotion amplified. The blazing energy had to go somewhere.

So the energy rushed to Farkle, undiluted and wild, and Farkle let it roil within him, where it burned up all the pieces of his identity, where maybe it also burned up the piece that loved a girl. And both of them were hollowed out.

Lucas smelled like Central Park in autumn. His arm rested solidly around Farkle. His shins were warm over Farkle’s ankles. The breaths that passed through his throat moved against Farkle’s forehead.

Farkle pressed his fingers over Lucas’s heart and felt the beating, but he didn’t know if the pulses came from Lucas or himself.

“Farkle,” Lucas sighed.

“Yeah.”

Lucas buried his face into Farkle’s hair, and that’s all there was to it.

**Author's Note:**

> ***SHOULD THIS BE RATED TEEN OR MATURE?! Someone please tell me...  
> Title is from the song “Sippy Cup” by Melanie Martinez. It’s explicit.  
> I don’t drink that much so I don’t know alcohol very well. What’s an Amstel? Budvar? Heck if I know. I just made sure to pick things that were bottled beers, because I didn’t want them awkwardly sipping at something that’s supposed to be drunken in shots, like, let’s say, straight vodka. Ha-ha. Is it even polite to agree to meet someone at a bar but start drinking without them? I just buy bottles of wine and drink at home so that I don’t have to deal with things like etiquette…  
> Never shall I be satisfied with the endings of my stories.


End file.
